


Between The Minds

by RoseByAnyOtherName17



Series: The Lion, the Wolf and the Dragon [22]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Love, Plans, Sharing a Bed, Strategy & Tactics, Worry, mentions of others - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-19 04:16:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15502119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseByAnyOtherName17/pseuds/RoseByAnyOtherName17
Summary: Sometimes she whispered to him half-made plans of sneaking into the city herself and assassinating Cersei, or going to Dorne and stealing Myrcella away to hold hostage.





	Between The Minds

**Author's Note:**

> Next installment! Kind of a filler in the action, but things are coming together now :) 
> 
> title comes from the song Between The Minds by Jack Savoretti

Arya had been content to wait for Gendry and Nymeria to heal, and was even grateful for the reprieve, but he wasn’t limping anymore and the direwolf was as wild as she had ever been. Every day that passed without news or orders drew her up stiffer, until not even Gendry’s gentle hand on her shoulder could make her relax. “I just want this to be over,” she told him. “I want us to go home.”

 

The way she said “us” and “home” together in the same sentence made him feel warm all the way to his toes. She’d described Winterfell to him over and over, the Godswood with its hot springs and the nip that never quite left the air, no matter what time of year it was. She had never experienced true heat until they had travelled south for the first time, she told him. The first few weeks in King’s Landing had been an adjustment in a lot of ways, but the heat had been her least favorite part. She always went quiet here, talking about her father and the city, until Gendry steered her back to Winterfell with a question about Jon Snow or the forge. He could picture bits and pieces of it now, stone walls darkened with age and fire-lit rooms. He thought he could be happy there, but then, he could probably be happy anywhere with Arya at his side.

 

And that was the trouble: he was Robert Baratheon’s bastard son. Ever since Olenna Tyrell said it out loud in front of everyone, and didn’t allow him to deny it, the Stormlords were looking at him with a newfound respect. Before, they only allowed him his status because of Arya. But now, it was as if they had lost any doubt. It was only a matter of time before someone suggested that Daenerys legitimize him and he take his place as Warden of the Stormlands. If the idea became popular enough, there wouldn’t be anything he could say except yes, no matter what he wanted.

 

Gendry wanted Arya, now and for the rest of his life, no matter how long or short a time that might be. He knew she wanted him too, even if she hadn’t said the words again after the first time in the washroom. What frightened him was that, if it came down to such a choice for her, he knew she would choose Winterfell and what remained of her family. She may be his home, but he was not hers, not completely. It would break his heart to let her go, but he knew he could never stop her from leaving. He would never even try.

 

If Arya noticed the Stormlords changed behavior, she didn’t allude to it. She continued as she always did, sparring with Gendry and helping the young men from the surrounding villages train. She got along with Lady Tyrell immensely, enjoying her stories and her crass language. The way Gendry saw it, the woman had lived long enough to earn the right to speak however she wanted, but the truth was, everyone was too scared of her to say anything about it. In the safety of his own head, he could admit that she was rather terrifying, old as she was. He told Arya once, in the dark of their shared room with his head in her lap and her fingers in his hair. She laughed so hard she doubled over and accidentally shoved her breasts into his face. It was so unexpected he stopped breathing for a long moment, until she pulled away and anxiously apologized.

 

“Arya,” he said, very seriously, “that is one thing you don’t ever have to apologize for.”

 

She gazed down at him uncomprehendingly until it dawned on her. The grin he received in return was shy, but her eyes sparked with mischief. His breath caught in his throat when she leaned over again to nuzzle their noses together. The gesture was so sweet that it brought a lump to his throat, so he touched her cheek and kissed her lightly, as best he could while he was looking at her upside-down. She allowed it, and then she dug her fingers into his ribs to make him yelp and scramble out of reach.

 

Word came from Daenerys, which had come from Jon, which had come from the Wall, that the cold there was becoming more and more unnatural. There was no sign of the Night King and his army yet, but several wights had been spotted and subsequently destroyed. A few Wildling families, the ones that had managed to stay hidden from the dead thus far, had come to the Wall asking for sanctuary. Undoubtedly they knew that they were in no place to demand anything. Edd Tollett did them better, and sent them to Mole Town.

 

“It won’t be long now,” Arya said quietly that night. She sat on the floor between Gendry’s legs, where he was attempting to braid her hair. They kept coming out loose and a little messy, only just now beginning to somewhat resemble Arya’s particular style. He didn’t have to ask her what she meant. For the moment, he abandoned his task to lean forward and wrap his arms around her shoulders, pressing a kiss to the top of her head and then resting his chin there. She touched the tips of her fingers to the back of his hand, making soothing little circles.

 

There were rumors of increased sanctions on King’s Landing, put into place by Cersei. “No one is getting in or out of the city, by road or by port,” Arya told everyone the next morning in the great hall, over breakfast. “She’s ready for an attack, one way or the other.”

 

It complicated things; with what remained of the Lannister army concentrated at King’s Landing, a strike on the city would be much more difficult. The attacks from Euron Greyjoy on the Dornish coast were becoming less frequent, and those at Casterly Rock said that the rest of his fleet, now complete, sailed right on by. Cersei was fortifying her city, the last thing she had, in one last move. She knew what was coming, and was going to make it as painful and bloody as possible.

 

Arya wasn’t sleeping again, which Gendry knew because they continued to share the room the Tyrells had given them. He would wake to her sitting at the edge of the bed, or staring out the window, thoughts whirring behind her eyes. She never tried to tell him to go back to sleep when he would get up as well, to sneak to the kitchen and make them both tea. Sometimes she whispered to him half-made plans of sneaking into the city herself and assassinating Cersei, or going to Dorne and stealing Myrcella away to hold her hostage because, despite everything, Arianne Martell would not harm the princess. _We do not hurt little girls in Dorne._ For all the Arya insisted she would do anything to end this “stupid war” and go home, Gendry knew she wouldn’t hurt an innocent. He remembered how she had cared for the little girl they picked up those years ago, the one without a name or a family. She’d claimed to hate her, found her annoying, but every night when they settled, Arya was the one who had made sure the little girl was fed and asleep before taking care of herself. No, Arya would never hurt Myrcella Baratheon, no matter what she said. But he never reminded her of that.

 

The eighth night he woke to find her sitting up, he decided enough was enough. Her sleeplessness was starting to show; she had snapped at Mace Tyrell the day before, and the man had sputtered for a full minute in his loss of words. Arya apologized almost immediately, but Gendry knew something had to change. When he got out of bed this time, it was only to take her hand and bring her back to it. “I need to figure this out,” she argued, or tried to. She wasn’t really putting up much of a fight. Gendry managed to tuck her under the covers with minimal force, and slid under them himself after blowing out the candles they usually left lit. He spooned up behind her, draping an arm over her side and loosely wrapping his hand around her wrist where she tucked it under her head. For good measure, he wiggled his leg between both of hers. If she tried to get up again, it would definitely not be without notice.

 

“You can’t win a war without sleeping,” he muttered firmly into the back of her neck. She grumbled something unintelligible in response, but he counted it as a win when she squirmed back into him a little more, leaving no space between them. A few minutes later, she was breathing deeply, making little snuffles in her sleep.

 

He woke up hard, pressed against her as he was, but the sun was well over the horizon and Arya looked better rested already. It was worth the teasing, especially when she followed it with a long kiss before they got ready for the day.

 

**

 

The thing that Arya kept coming back to was Jaime Lannister.

 

“There would have been word if he was taken prisoner somewhere,” she muttered, pacing back and forth. “We would know if he was with Cersei, _he_ would be leading the guard on King’s Landing, and she would want everyone to know that the Lannisters are as strong as they’ve ever been, united. Where is he? Why did he just up and vanish after the siege on Riverrun? None of it makes any sense.”

 

“He’s hard to miss,” Gendry pointed out, “what with his missing hand and all.”

 

“It isn’t just missing, it’s made of gold now.”

  


“Exactly,” Gendry pressed. “Surely someone, somewhere, has seen a blond man that has a golden hand? One sighting, that’s all we really need to know.”

 

“Shouldn’t it have come up by now though?” Arya asked. “It’s been months since Riverrun. That’s more than enough time for rumors to spring up and spread.”

 

“Not if he’s being careful about it.” Gendry stopped stoking the fire for a moment to stand in front of her. “If he was in the Riverlands, even shortly after we were, it was getting colder. It wouldn’t be strange to be wearing gloves. If he’s staying away from castles and sticking with small villages, it isn’t likely he would be recognized. How many smallfolk have actually gotten a good, long look at the Kingslayer? Not many, I’d bet, unless they lived in King’s Landing when he was part of Robert’s guard.” Something of an idea was taking form in his mind now. “But a highborn man like that, he wouldn’t settle for roughing it, would he? He would want a warm meal at night, a bed to sleep in.”

 

“Especially after what he went through when he was kidnapped with Brienne,” Arya said slowly. She had learned bits and pieces from the big woman during her short stay at Winterfell. The two of them had formed an unlikely friendship, mostly bound by survival, but it was evidently strong enough for Jaime to give Brienne a Valerian steel sword. “No, he would want to have protection, even if it’s in the form of a locked door and other people.” She shook her head. “How would that help though? There are hundreds of inns across Westeros, thousands even. We could never pin him down that way.”

 

“Then we need to think of where he might have gone,” Gendry persisted. “King’s Landing is the obvious choice, but…”

 

“We would know,” Arya finished. “That’s another thing; why isn’t he there? Why didn’t he return to Cersei when he was finished taking Riverrun before I did? Or before, considering the High Sparrow imprisoned her for a time while he was gone?”

 

**

 

“He probably learned that Cersei was fucking their cousin and the Kettleblacks while he was a prisoner,” Olenna Tyrell announced the next afternoon, when Arya and Gendry brought up their concerns. “Coupled with Cersei all but killing Tommen herself, he probably decided she wasn’t worth it anymore.”

 

“Mother!” Mace exclaimed, shocked at her language.

 

“Oh, hush,” the Queen of Thorns said, waving a hand dismissively. “The girl’s been in battle, she led a Wildling army, she’s heard everything there is to hear now.”

 

“It is not proper,” Lord Tyrell mumbled.

 

Gendry was thinking fast. “So he cared for his children?”

 

“The best that he could, while pretending they were not his,” Olenna answered. “Before our Margaery told us to leave King’s Landing, he spent a lot of time with Tommen. It was all under the guise of teaching him how to be a king, but Tommen clearly loved him.” She frowned. “Why is a missing Lannister so important? He is doing nothing to help his sister win this war, I imagine he can wait until it is done.”

 

“Because he’s another piece of the puzzle,” Arya said. Gendry met her eyes, and saw the same thought behind them that he wasn’t able to shake. “He learns that Cersei blew up the Sept, which caused Tommen to kill himself, alongside her infidelity to him – a choice, considering she was a widow with no king to please any longer. Suddenly, he has nowhere to go, no family left. His father is dead, his brother fled across the Narrow Sea, and his sister has gone mad. But he has a daughter. She’s alive and safe in Dorne, to the best of his knowledge.”

 

“Surely he would have gotten to Sunspear by now, if that is truly where he was going,” Mace Tyrell said doubtfully.

 

“If he were a fully capable man, sure,” Gendry reminded him. “But he’s most likely alone, with one hand, trying to stay out of sight. That makes for a slightly more difficult journey, I’d imagine.”

 

“ _And_ ,” Arya added, pointing a finger at the strategic map that was kept in the solar they met in, “assuming he was keeping to land, he would have to go through Prince’s Pass. The mountains are difficult to travel through even for the strongest man. He may have had time to get used to his hand missing, but he is by no means what he used to be.”

 

There was a long, thoughtful silence. Arya had made her point. Jaime Lannister was important, even if they were not quite certain how yet, and if he cared for his family the way Lady Olenna said he did, there was one last place for him to be.

 

“So we set a trap for him, assuming he gets Myrcella out of Sunspear unscathed,” Lord Swann, one of the Stormlords, said. “Then what? You said it yourself, Lady Stark, Cersei no longer cares for her family.”

 

Gendry watched Arya bite her lip, a familiar, conflicted gesture. “We might have a chance of convincing Jaime to join us,” she responded. “At the very least, the North’s cause, if he believes the Night King and his army are coming. But if not…” She took a deep breath, and Gendry took her hand so she could hold onto it, the only sign of weakness she gave. “If not, Cersei gets one more chance. Surrender the Iron Throne for her brother and daughter, or she receives their heads as a gift.”


End file.
